Teacher poems
/ page 3 of 23 /
Spleen (III)
© Charles Baudelaire
Je suis comme le roi d'un pays pluvieux,
Riche, mais impuissant, jeune et pourtant très vieux,
Qui, de ses précepteurs méprisant les courbettes,
S'ennuie avec ses chiens comme avec d'autres bêtes.
Hexameters
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
All my hexameters fly, like stags pursued by the staghounds,
Breathless and panting, and ready to drop, yet flying still onwards,
I would full fain pull in my hard-mouthed runaway hunter;
But our English Spondeans are clumsy yet impotent curb-reins;
And so to make him go slowly, no way left have I but to lame him.
Dumbness
© Thomas Traherne
Sure Man was born to meditate on things,
And to contemplate the eternal springs
Pretence. Part I - Table-Talk
© John Kenyon
The youth, who long hath trod with trusting feet,
Starts from the flash which shows him life's deceit;
Then, with slow footstep, ponders, undeceived,
On all his heart, for many a year, believed;
But hence he eyes the world with sharpened view,
And learns, too soon, to separate false from true.
Easter at Cactus Center
© Arthur Chapman
You kin talk about your racin' with your horses neck and neck--
We have had one here in Cactus that's the high card in the deck.
Children's Reply
© Julia A Moore
We are little children,
That go to Sabbath school,
To hear of our Redeemer,
Likewise the golden rule.
Maha-Bharata, The Epic Of Ancient India - Book XII - Aswa-Medha - (Sacrifice Of The Horse)
© Romesh Chunder Dutt
The real Epic ends with the war and the funerals of the deceased
warriors. Much of what follows in the original Sanscrit poem is
The Nevers of Poetry
© Charles Harpur
Never heed whether a line strictly goes
By learned rule, if, brook-like, it warble as it flows,
Or if, in concord with the thought, it fills
Fast forward, like a torrent fast flooding from the hills.
Childhood
© Jose Asuncion Silva
These recollections with the scent of ferns
Are the idyll of early years
(Gregorio Gutierrez González)
Seeing the Eclipse in Maine by Robert Bly: American Life in Poetry #165 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laurea
© Ted Kooser
In âThe Moose,â? a poem much too long to print here, the late Elizabeth Bishop was able to show a community being created from a group of strangers on a bus who come in contact with a moose on the highway. They watch it together and become one. Here Robert Bly of Minnesota assembles a similar community, around an eclipse. Notice how the experience happens to âwe,â? the group, not just to âme,â? the poet.
Seeing the Eclipse in Maine
It started about noon. On top of Mount Batte,
We were all exclaiming. Someone had a cardboard
And a pin, and we all cried out when the sun
Appeared in tiny form on the notebook cover.
Solomon
© Thomas Parnell
But long expectance of a bliss delay'd
Breeds anxious doubt, and tempts the sacred maid;
Then mists arising strait repel the light,
The colour'd garden lies disguis'd with night,
A pale-horn'd crescent leads a glimm'ring throng,
And groans of absence jarr within the song.
The Oldest Inhabitant
© Augusta Davies Webster
"AND when came I to this town?" did he say!
A question asked for the asking's sake,
Spirit Of Song
© Thomas Bracken
Where is thy dwelling-place? Echo of sweetness,
Seraph of tenderness, where is thy home?
A More Ancient Mariner
© Bliss William Carman
The swarthy bee is a buccaneer,
A burly velveted rover,
Who loves the booming wind in his ear
As he sails the seas of clover.
Rhymed Plea For Tolerance - Dialogue I
© John Kenyon
Yet the heart vents still more indignant blame,
Where Lawgivers their sullen codes proclaim,
And idly would constrain the creed within,
As if Belief were Crime, and ToleranceSin.
The Minstrel ; Or, The Progress Of Genius - Book II.
© James Beattie
I.
Of chance or change O let not man complain,
Else shall he never never cease to wail:
For, from the imperial dome, to where the swain
Poem At The Centennial Anniversary Dinner Of The Massachusetts Medical Society
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
Each has his gifts, his losses and his gains,
Each his own share of pleasures and of pains;
No life-long aim with steadfast eye pursued
Finds a smooth pathway all with roses strewed;
Trouble belongs to man of woman born,--
Tread where he may, his foot will find its thorn.
Ode 1373
© Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
The power of love came into me,
and I became fierce like a lion,
then tender like the evening star.
